


The Hidden Language of the Soul

by susannah_wilde



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dancing, Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, Fluffy Ending, M/M, Post War, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-02-27 03:56:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2678123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/susannah_wilde/pseuds/susannah_wilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has always been clumsy at dancing, but with each new dance partner, he learns quite a few things about himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hidden Language of the Soul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [noeon (noe)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noe/gifts).



> Much gratitude is given to the mods for giving me extensions to finish this fic. A huge thanks to my beta, A, who helped me polish this on such short notice as well as giving me wonderful advice. Any remaining mistakes are my own.

“Dance is the hidden language of the soul, of the body.” - Martha Graham

****

I. Yule Ball

The Great Hall is beautifully decorated, enchanted snow falling from the ceiling, coloured fairy lights twinkling, and the trees wrapped in tinsel and miniature ornaments. Yet Harry doesn’t concentrate on that; he’s far too busy trying to remember everything he’s learned from the dancing lessons with Professor McGonagall. Parvati has already warned him about stepping on her feet.

He sneaks a glance at the other Triwizard Champions around him and immediately wishes he had not. They look so relaxed and sure of themselves with their dancing partners, waiting for the music to start. Even Hermione looks brilliant in her dress as she smiles at something Krum has said. Meanwhile, Harry stands with his shoulders hunched, his new dress robes stiff and shoes slightly pinching him. He reminds himself that if he could just get through with this opening dance, then he can consider his duty fulfilled and sit out for the rest of the night.

The first notes of the waltz begin and they are off. All Harry sees is the whirlwind of colours as he and Parvati awkwardly cross the floor and Harry loses himself in the music. He knows that Parvati had taken control of the dance because of her great sigh as she crushes his hands in hers, but he does not care. He deems it best if she just leads to prevent any damage from his clumsy dancing.

When Harry hears the polite applause, he breathes a sigh of relief and lets his muscles relax. He smiles weakly at a less-than-pleased Parvati and takes her to sit next to Ron and her sister before going to grab the drinks.

“I’m glad that’s over. It was a nightmare,” Harry says to Ron when he returns. Parvati hears him and glares at Harry, but he shrugs and mouths “It’s the truth” to Ron.

“Did you see Hermione?” Ron asks before launching into an entire conversation about how she fooled them. Harry nods at all the right places and mutters some comments that spur Ron on. Harry looks at the crowd and spots Ginny with Neville, and winces. If there’s one person that would be a worse dancing partner than Harry, it’s Neville.

He continues to watch people, leaving Parvati to find her own fun with a boy from Durmstrang. The drinks are non-alcoholic because even though all the visitors are of age, it still is a school function. Yet Harry suspects the Weasley twins have managed to slip something into the drinks because his heart skips a beat when he finally spies Draco Malfoy dancing across the room.

Malfoy’s date is Pansy Parkinson, who is dressed in garish frilly pink robes, while Malfoy’s dark grey robes brings out the colour of his eyes. Although both are pureblood and have possibly been trained to ballroom dance since they were children, Malfoy is the far superior dancer. He twirls Parkinson around while he moves, keeping up with the changing tempo as they glide across the floor. His face remains blank as he manoeuvers them through the crowd, but Harry can see that Malfoy's cheeks are tinged in pink. When the song is over, Malfoy gives a quick bow before taking Parkinson’s hand and leading them over to a group of Slytherins Harry does not recognise.

For the rest of the night, Harry watches Malfoy as he dances with different partners, even surprising Harry once by dancing with a Slytherin boy. Harry wonders, for a brief moment, if he would be as clumsy if he were dancing with Malfoy, and then quickly blames the drink for having such a ridiculous thought.

II. End of School Feast

After the formalities of the morning, Harry still finds it hard to relax and enjoy his last night at Hogwarts, his first home. The words of advice given to the Eighth Years by Professor McGonagall are but a fragment of his thoughts as he looks around at all the people who survived the war.

“Enjoying yourself, Harry? I haven’t seen you get up all night,” Ron says, placing his goblet on the table. Unlike the Yule Ball, this celebration has allowed the drinks to flow freely. Ron is showing signs of having one too many and Hermione, who is sitting beside him, is only better in that she could keep a straight face. In fact, she is discussing her possible NEWTs results with Hannah Abbott at the moment.

Harry shrugs and truthfully says, “No, but I think that it’s safer to stay right here.” 

Ron snorts. “Harry, you know you can say no, right?”

“Not really. If I accept one dance, then everyone will want one with ‘the Saviour’ and it will look rude if I refuse.” Harry’s fine sitting at the table for the moment.

“Just go dance with Ginny. You know she doesn’t care about that.” 

A hint of unease settles in the pit of Harry’s stomach at the mention of her name, something that Ron has been doing a lot recently. It’s just that while Ginny is one of his great friends, he cannot summon the same passion she has for him. He thought that the Muggle saying _absence makes the heart grow fonder_ would ring true for him even when he broke up with Ginny before going to search for the Horcruxes. However, he's found that it's quite the opposite and it puzzles him. After all, she’s still the brave, talented person he admired from years before. It’s he, Harry, that has changed and he doesn’t know what to make of it yet. 

Harry shakes his head. “I need the loo,” he says instead, leaving even as Ron asks him to stay.

The music changes into something more contemporary, the beats strung fast and hard in a weird order as the vocalist screams straight at the audience. Harry’s ears are ringing so much; it’s a wonder that he hasn’t turned deaf. He pushes open the doors to the Great Hall after forcing his way past people and declining their requests to dance or take photographs. The silence of the empty corridor is pure bliss.

Harry doesn’t want to go to bed this early, so he begins to walk up a random stairwell. All the damage to the castle had been rebuilt during the summer and fall terms, yet certain places trigger memories from all his years at Hogwarts.

_The wall where the message appeared second year. The painting of the fruit that leads straight to the kitchens. The staircase to the third floor where Fluffy used to guard the trapdoor. The Infirmary which Harry has spent a lot of times after Quidditch games. Myrtle’s bathroom where he cast an unknown spell that almost killed Draco Malfoy._

Harry stops and frowns. He thinks about all the people he saw that night in the Great Hall and doesn’t remember seeing the bright hair. Leaving without at least an acknowledgement would seem wrong. Making up his mind, Harry heads up to the Astronomy Tower, one of the few places he hasn’t gone to that night. It’s the last place anyone would go when there is a celebration taking place because there is a small memorial and a portrait for Dumbledore. When he enters the tower, in the shadows Harry sees a person sitting down on the floor, back against the wall.

“… and that I’ve been accepted in the healer’s programme at St Mungo’s so that I can help right some of the wrong in my life . . .” Malfoy says, letting the words hang in the air. His hair shines in the moonlight and all lines on his forehead and around his eyes give the appearance of someone who is very tired.

Draco Malfoy is the only Slytherin who came back after the war to finish his last year at Hogwarts. Harry had suspected that it was not just because he was under order as part of his probation, but because he truly wanted to return. Malfoy had suffered through a month of taunts, hexes and sabotage by the people who only saw him as a Death Eater. Harry, one of the few people who knew that the real reason behind Malfoy’s actions were as a result of duress, sat next to him in the classes they shared. People were confused at first, but they didn’t dare do anything to Malfoy with Harry nearby. And Malfoy ignored Harry, who was okay with it as long as Malfoy wasn’t threatened.

One day in Defense class, when Harry hadn’t thrown up a shield in time and was instead hexed by a curse intended for Malfoy, Malfoy snapped and hexed Harry, too. During their detention, they got into their first argument since term had started. 

“Why are you doing this,” Malfoy hissed, cleaning the potions cauldrons by hand.

Harry, who had been counting potions supplies, shrugged and replied, “because no one else will and you can’t even defend yourself properly.” It was true. Malfoy had a Ministry issued wand that limited the types of spells he could cast.

“What do you care, Potter? I don’t need your pity.”

“Believe it or not, Malfoy, I do care. I know what you went through last year, especially on the night Dumbledore died. I was hiding under my Invisibility Cloak and saw that you didn’t want to kill him. Knowing that, I just won’t stand there passively while others hurt you for something that wasn’t your fault.”

Shock had appeared in Malfoy’s eyes at that moment and while he was at a loss for words, Harry took his chance to appeal to Malfoy.

“Please, Malfoy let me help. You don’t even have to like me or even be friends, but let’s just be civil to each other, yeah? We’ve all been through so much and I am sick of fighting, even if it’s something petty,” Harry babbled on, desperation rising every minute that Malfoy didn’t answer.

Malfoy had turned his back to Harry and continued cleaning. It was one of the longest, most tense moments of Harry’s life since the war ended.

At the end of the night, when Slughorn had dismissed them, Malfoy had called out Harry’s name just as he had turned the corner.

“Fine,” Malfoy says at last, the words echoing down the corridor. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” And for the rest of the year, it works.

Harry is startled when Malfoy clears his throat and gives him a pointed look. “What are you doing here?” 

Harry looks at the portrait, but Dumbledore is gone, leaving behind an empty office.

Malfoy repeats his question and doesn’t sound angry, but Harry ignores the question because he can’t exactly say _looking for you_. Instead, he smiles and says, “You’re going to be a Healer, that’s great, Malfoy!”

Malfoy stands up, wrapping his robes tighter around his body and Harry sees a hint of pink colouring Malfoy’s face. “Potter, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you at the party?” 

“The same reason you’re not there. I didn’t feel like celebrating.” He shrugs his shoulders and goes to stand next to Malfoy, feeling Malfoy watch his every move.

“When did you get the news, Malfoy?” Harry asks and out of the corner of his eyes, sees Malfoy stiffen before composing himself again.

“This morning. I didn’t expect a response, since the deadline had passed, and I had almost given up hope, but it came as I was packing.” He shakes his head. “I thought I would be rejected immediately and was prepared to move to the Continent.”

“It would be foolish to not accept you,” Harry says. “Hermione even thinks so, seeing as you two had the highest marks in our year.”

If Harry had not been watching him, then he would have missed Malfoy smile. Even then, seeing as they were surrounded by shadows, he thinks he might be mistaken.

“Still going to be an Auror, then?” Malfoy asks. “You don’t even have to go through Auror training or have the correct N.E.W.T.s.” 

Harry turns around and stares out at the school grounds for a minute trying to come up with the right words to explain why he wants to be an Auror.

“Yeah, I mean it’s not just about catching the rest of the Death Eaters that are still on the run. I just want everyone I love to be able to live their lives without fear. What we went through was horrible and I don’t want anyone else to experience that. I want my children to have the chance that we never had, to be young and carefree and only worry the next Quidditch game or the stress of examinations. Does that make sense?” Harry asks and then adds as an afterthought, “It might possibly the only thing that I’m good at.” 

Malfoy snorts and shakes his head. “As charming as that sentiment is, Potter, you’re probably the only person who thinks that way. You saw how I was treated at the beginning of the year. That’s why no other Slytherin came back to Hogwarts. You can’t be there to protect everyone.” He steps back from the railing and pauses, taking a hard look at Harry. “I never did thank you for your testimony at the trials.” He takes a deep breath and adds, “So, thanks.”

Harry’s eyes are wide and he must look like a fool by the way his mouth is opening and closing, at a loss of what to say. When Malfoy turns to leave, at last Harry finds his voice. “No, wait! Where are you going?”

“I had just come to say goodbye before floo’ing back to the Manor tonight. Mother thinks it’s too dangerous to take the Hogwarts Express.”

Malfoy brushes his robes and Harry finds that he doesn’t want him to go. This is the first time they’ve had an honest conversation since they served detention at the beginning of the year. Harry reaches out and grabs Malfoy’s arm. It’s a gut instinct, but all Harry wants is to keep Malfoy from leaving and his brain scrambles to find an excuse.

“Dance with me, Malfoy.”

Clearly this is not what Malfoy is expecting Harry to say. “What?” Malfoy asks, tugging at his robes until Harry releases them.

“You shouldn’t leave Hogwarts in the middle of the night,” Harry says. “In fact, you should be down at the Great Hall, not hiding away in a tower.”

“I’m not hiding.”

“Then let’s go back to the celebration.”

“No,” Malfoy says firmly, but he doesn’t move away.

“Why not?” 

“Again, why do you care? No one else bothered to look for me, not even the professors, and yet you come in and ask me for a dance, of all things.” Then he sighs and says, “If I say yes, will you finally leave me alone?”

Surprised, Harry nods.

Malfoy flicks his wand, and Harry hears music start to play, the sounds echoing in the tower. It is vastly different from the music earlier that night and Harry lets his body relax. Malfoy raises an eyebrow at Harry when he reaches out with both hands, then lets them drop when he loses his nerve.

“Well,” Malfoy says at last, looking down at Harry.

Harry gives a sheepish grin. “Er, I don’t quite know a lot about dancing?”

“Then why are we doing this?”

“I didn’t dance at all tonight,” Harry finishes lamely. “You’re obviously a better dancer, even I can admit that after seeing you dance at the Yule Ball.”

Malfoy looks straight at Harry, his grey eyes searching for something and Harry has to fight the urge to not look away immediately. Malfoy doesn’t say anything about the ridiculousness of the situation, but grabs both of Harry’s hands, placing one on his shoulder and keeping the other. Up close, Harry’s attention is focused on the way Malfoy’s hair is long enough to curl at the nape of his neck and the graceful curves of his shoulders. 

There is a crescendo in the song and Malfoy takes command of the dance, leading Harry backwards with small steps at first. The dance, on Harry’s part, is mostly okay, until he manages to step on Malfoy’s boots. To his relief, Malfoy doesn’t have a snarky comment or gives him a scathing look. 

The song ends far too soon and all at once the lateness of the night catches up to Harry. He stammers out a quick thanks before leaving in order to hide his embarrassment.

Before he reaches the stairs, he hears Malfoy call out after him. “You’ll make an excellent Auror, Potter.”

Harry glances back at Malfoy and, for the second time that night, sees a smile on his face.

“Thanks,” Harry says again. “I’ll probably be there at St Mungo’s to visit you before long, seeing as I have a knack for getting injured.”

The soft laughter that trails from the tower warms Harry’s heart as he heads back to his friends.

****

III. Weasley Wedding

All the planning and fretting that went into making this the best wedding pays off as Harry sees the look of happiness on Hermione’s face. She’s standing in front of everyone with Ron by her side, but she has eyes only for him. She smiles at the fireworks that explodes over them when they break off from their kiss.

During the ceremony, Harry had stood uncomfortably as Ron’s best man, glad for once that he’s not the centre of attention. Afterwards, even Harry has to admit to some tears in his eyes as he congratulates the newlywed couple. What could be better than seeing his best friends happy?

When it’s time for dinner, he sits at the table next to Luna, Neville, Ginny, Seamus, and Dean.

“They look really happy,” Luna dreamily says. She eats a piece of wedding cake that is layered with many pieces of fruit.

“Of course they are,” Ginny says. She shifts in her chair and uses her fork to point at the couple. “I still remember when Ron was younger and he would always try to hide his crush on her. ‘Pulling pigtails’ is what Hermione called it.”

They stare at her with looks of disbelief.

“What? Oh, don’t tell me you didn’t notice how he was always a bit cruel to Hermione and was jealous when she was with another boy. He didn’t know how to show his affections. Neither did I for that matter.” She grins at Harry, who smiles weakly back at her.

After the war, just as everyone expected, Harry got back together with Ginny in attempt to pick up what they had before the madness of Lord Voldemort. His feelings from his last night at Hogwarts were pushed down in favour of something that was familiar and comforting, something he thought he needed at the time. 

However, it didn’t take long for the feeling to fade. Harry had a great time with Ginny, going to Quidditch matches or visiting Hermione and Ron, but he soon realised that while he dearly loved her, he could only think of her as a sister, or worse, if he really thought about it, as a substitute for his mother. He didn’t want to say anything until he could think it over and have a proper talk with Ginny.

What people had not expected was Harry’s friendship with Draco Malfoy. True to his word, on the very first day as an official Auror, Harry had arrived at St. Mungo’s with a curse that he did not deflect in time.

Malfoy had kept his composure while attending Harry, but that could have been because the Head Auror was busy screaming at Harry about how stupid it was to go after a criminal without his partner. Harry couldn’t get a word in for his defense, but he could feel Malfoy’s questioning gaze on him. After being discharged, Harry invited Malfoy over for drinks at the Leaky Cauldron. It wasn’t as awkward as he had thought, since he managed to make Malfoy laugh at some of the ridiculous things criminals thought they could get away with. Before the end of the night was over, they made a bet to see how many times Harry would show up at St Mungo’s for the next year. (No less than 20 times, it turned out.)

They did not seek out each other’s company, but neither did they ignore each other at Ministry events. They would share a drink and catch up before Harry would be summoned to give a speech or meet a foreign dignitary. It was an odd camaraderie and Harry took to calling Malfoy by his first name, but it worked.

Instead, he spent most of his time with Ginny, Ron and Hermione. He had the family he always wanted. But it wasn’t enough and he hadn’t wanted to admit it until that morning, tucking it away in the corners of his mind where he could easily forget it.

As Harry had laid in bed listening to Ginny take a shower, he had come to the conclusion that when he thought of the future, either in ten years, or even the next day, Ginny was not a part of it. He saw a successful career, a loving family with kids, but not Ginny. Fear had run through his veins, numbing him. Was he not destined for happiness as the rest of his friends were?

“No,” Harry mumbles out loud, causing Ginny to give him a puzzled look. He takes a gulp of his water. Thankfully, he sees Hermione lead Ron out to have their first dance as a married couple. It’s a song he doesn’t recognise, but must be a traditional Wizarding song, because Ron bows and then takes Hermione’s hand without even a falter in his step, despite being much taller than his partner. Looking at them, they make a picture perfect couple. Harry almost envies them because they had each other, while he was still trying to make sense of his life.

When music transitions into a second song, Harry stands up so that he can stretch his legs. Ginny brightens and takes his hand and invites him to a dance. 

“Would you like to get married someday, Harry,” Ginny asks.

Harry falters at her words, but at least this is a slow dance so that all he has to do is walk through the steps. Standing this close to her, smelling the fragrance of her perfume, the way she has used only a minimal amount of make up so that her natural beauty is revealed, Harry looks into Ginny’s brown eyes. And it does nothing for him.

He stops dancing half-way through the song and takes Ginny away from their group of friends who give them knowing looks. In the middle of Molly Weasley’s garden, Harry breaks up with her.

****

IV. _Primma Ballerina Assoluta_  


Going to the ballet is one of the things Harry does every once in a while ever since he and Ron have been banned from the Leaky Cauldron for fighting while on Auror duty.

The Monday after Ron had returned from his honeymoon, he had sent a tersely written note to Harry’s office, asking to meet at the Leaky to talk. From the moment Harry had entered the establishment, he had felt a sense of dread drop like a stone in his stomach just by looking at Ron’s face. He looked the angriest Harry had ever seen, telling Harry that it wasn’t fair to lead his sister on for all these years. Harry had tried to explain, but as he fumbled his words, he made the mistake of telling Ron that he just didn’t love her. It was then that Ron had thrown the first punch.

At St Mungo’s, Ginny had scolded Ron, saying that she was able to take care of herself and to not meddle in things he didn’t understand. Then she had turned to Harry and said that she was still hurt about how he broke up with her, she understood why. She had said that he needed to heal and find out what he wanted from life after the war before he could be in any relationship.

Harry had agreed with her, glad that she understood what he couldn’t explain before.

In fact, even three years later, the entire incident is still an awkward topic between all of them. 

However, Harry did realise something very important after his split with Ginny Weasley.

He likes boys. Well, technically men, but definitely not women. And Draco Malfoy in particular.

It’s not that he decides he likes men on a whim. After reading about his split with Ginny from the _Daily Prophet_ , several Aurors had set him up on dates. The women were lovely; it was he that couldn’t find it in himself to feign interest on any of the dates he had.

After a particularly boring date, Harry had complained to Hermione who had not been sympathetic. Harry hadn’t blamed her; she was struggling with Rose, who was going through the terrible two’s, and had more important things on her mind than Harry’s love life.

“Go out and meet women somewhere you’ve never gone before,” she had said as Harry helped her wash dishes by hand.

“Where? Don’t you think I’ve tried, but either I meet mad people who want me for my fame, or just want one night. I don’t do that, Hermione.”

She had Summoned a pair of tickets and placed them in his hand. “Here. If all else fails, try the ballet. No one will expect you there and even if someone does recognise you, you can hide in the dark.” 

Harry had thought about not going, but when Seamus and Dean had cancelled a Quidditch game with him, Harry had nothing else to do. So that night he had worn his best travelling coat and was seated in a private box not far from the stage. He had also been given a pair of opera glasses.

From the time the curtain had risen and the music had started, Harry had been mesmerized. Even if he didn’t understand the plot, the dancers on stage gave him something interesting to look at. The choreography rivaled that of Quidditch moves, with wild jumps and sudden twists that sometimes he was certain that someone would fall. 

While the _primma ballerina assoluta_ looked beautiful from afar, it was the male lead that caught Harry’s attention. The costumes left nothing to the imagination and he liked the way it emphasized the muscles as they jumped and danced across the stage. 

Harry knew he had a problem when he had to hide how hard he was after the ballet programme. That night, Harry had dreams of dancing with the male lead in which he wasn’t clumsy, but graceful, and would run his hands all over those muscles and wake up needing a wank.

After several nights of coming to the same conclusion, he told his friends. Hermione had given him a hug and Ron had finally accepted that Harry hadn’t deliberately hurt Ginny. Ron had even come to one show to see why it fascinated Harry, but he had fidgeted and fallen asleep halfway through the programme.

For the last month, Harry has been in Ireland, trying to find criminals that were trading and selling Dark Artefacts. He has missed the Weasleys and friends, but a small part of him has also missed the ballet. A few days after his return, and as a treat to himself, Harry has bought a ticket to see _The Sleeping Beauty_. Imagine his surprise to see Pansy Parkinson as the lead, not that she doesn’t deserve it. Her performance took his breath away, not just the dancing, but how she commanded the stage with her presence. He even stands and claps enthusiastically for her at the end.

Later that night, with a glass of scotch in his hand, Harry takes out the paper programme and sees if he recognises anyone else on the list. He smirks when he sees Zachariah Smith’s name at the very end with all the others in the corps of ballet. 

He spends all night thinking about it, and decides that it might not be that awful if he were to make friends with someone who shared his love of the ballet. He returns to ballet studio the next morning where he assumes practises are held. A helpful secretary supplies directions to Pansy’s dressing room and he knocks on the door. Expecting Pansy, he stands still and stares in shock when he sees Draco Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy who isn’t dressed in robes, or wizarding attire, or anything resembling day clothes. He’s wearing white tights and a shirt and Harry tries very hard not to look down.

“Er,” he stammers and Draco frowns. 

“Potter, what are you doing here?”

“Parkinson,” he manages to spit out. “I saw her perform yesterday and thought I would say hello.” It’s a weak excuse, but it’s also the truth. “Are you her trainer?”

Draco shakes his head. “I practise with her when I have time. Aside from her dance partner, she only trusts me as we’ve been dancing together since we were children. If you wouldn’t mind waiting, I’ll let Pansy know you’re here.” 

Draco turns around and Harry cannot stop himself from staring. The tights reveal everything, from Draco’s long legs and lean muscles, to his pert arse that is half hidden by his shirt.

Harry’s ogling is stopped short when Pansy comes back alone into the room with a knowing smirk on her face. She sits on the loveseat and crosses her arms.

“Potter, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

Under her piercing gaze, Harry rambles. “Actually, I’m just leaving-- only wanted to say hello, but-- you probably are in the middle of practise since Draco’s here.”

Pansy arches an eyebrow at the use of Draco’s first name. For a brief moment, Harry wonders if Pansy knows Legilimency, just by the way she stares at him without blinking. At last she says, “It’s a pity you have to leave so soon.”

“Yeah,” he says, voice strained and higher than normal.

Pansy Summons a quill and parchment and writes down something before she hands it to Harry saying, “When you have more time, you should visit us, Potter. I think you’d enjoy it.” 

Harry folds the parchment and tucks it in his robes and leaving as soon as possible.

Harry takes up Pansy’s offer. On days when Harry isn’t working on a case, he visits the studio where the performers practised, always casting a Notice-Me-Not. Many hours are spent watching Pansy and Draco, for the first time Harry wonders what it would be like to have been raised with pureblood traditions. 

One thing that delights Harry is discovering that Pansy and Draco act more like siblings than lovers. Draco cares for Pansy, that much is true, from making her laugh when she is exhausted from practise to bringing her reviews of each performance. It is then that Harry gets to see Draco be himself, stripped free from obligations, and Harry develops a crush that gets stronger with time.

The very last performance of _The Sleeping Beauty_ is that night and Harry decides it’s time to actually talk to Draco. He waits outside the door marked _Parkinson_ and Pansy answer the door before he even knocks.

“Potter, you brought me flowers,” Pansy says, taking the bouquet of daisies and smelling them. She Transfigures a pink ribbon into a vase and adds water before setting them on her desk. 

“Actually, those aren’t for you--“ he begins, but stops when Pansy smiles.

“Draco’s not here at the moment, but I’ll let him know you stopped by.” 

Harry’s shoulders drop when he hears that. “I thought he would be here today,” Harry says, for that is what Draco had promised Pansy when he left practise early yesterday.

“I knew it!” she exclaims, her eyes bright. “You were with us during all those practises. I told Draco that he should strengthen the wards because I felt someone was there, but he didn’t believe me. No even when I told him I suspected it was you.”

Harry swallows hard as his mind races to think of a rational excuse. How could he have been so stupid and now, before he had even asked, his night was falling to pieces.

He’s lost in his thoughts that he almost misses Pansy’s next words. “Perhaps now I can convince him that you are actually stalking him because you _like_ him, unlike that one year at Hogwarts.”

“What! No, I don’t _stalk_ him,” Harry says, mortified. Is that what Pansy thinks he’s been doing all those nights? Now that he thinks about it, this kind of behaviour is beyond normal. 

Draco must have heard the outburst because he rushes into the room holding up the string of roses that is to be woven into Pansy’s hair. “What’s wrong this time, Pans?”

Pansy points at Harry and Draco turns, shock written on his face that is soon hidden behind a calm expression. His voice is professional as he places his hand on Harry’s back to push him out the door. “Potter, you can talk to Pansy afterwards. She needs to be in costume in less than ten minutes and she’s late enough as it is, so leave before --“

“Actually,” Harry says as he takes a deep breath to gather his courage, “I’m here to see you.”

“Oh,” is all Draco says, which isn’t much to go on, but Harry is determined to see this through.

“I was wondering- if you’re not busy after the show- if you wanted to go have a cup of coffee- or tea- or anything else you might like?” 

Draco nods and gives a small smile and Harry knows that it will be a very good night.

****

V. New Year’s Eve

It’s been a little over one year since Harry found his Gryffindor courage and asked Draco on a date and life could not have been better.

There have been arguments, of course, ranging from the most ridiculous things such as cleanliness ( _must you always throw your clothes on the floor!_ ) to the serious conversations about Draco’s past ( _it doesn’t mean anything to me remember? I’ve know you changed_ ). After all, it wouldn’t seem right if they had ceased fighting altogether.

At the same time, however, Draco makes Harry happy from the way they treat each other like equals to Draco truly wanting to make up for his past. He puts everything into helping out his patients, working endlessly to treat them that sometimes Harry has to floo over and spend the night in St Mungo’s just so that they can be together. Draco is nothing like the spoiled boy that Harry met many years ago and for that Harry is glad.

Their relationship is secret, agreed upon by the both of them from the beginning, and while Harry might feel guilty about not telling his friends, Draco’s safety comes first. The wizarding world might have officially pardoned Death Eaters who acted under duress, but there is no telling how they might react to finding out that that Harry is dating one.

Now, however, Harry wants to change that and is willing to take a chance. 

Over breakfast, Harry has convinced Draco to attend the Ministry’s New Year’s Ball. When he’s asked for an explanation, Harry replies that he wants to attend the first Ministry event that formally announced Neville Longbottom as the new Minister for Magic.

That night, Harry takes out the package from Madam Malkin’s while he’s hiding in the bathroom. Given that he’s not the best dressed wizard, he had to ask for help. The shop assistant’s enthusiasm had scared Harry at first, her eyes lighting up as she explained the different styles and accessories needed to complement his appearance. Harry had spent the entire day in the changing room, getting frustrated with the amount of clothes he tried on only to have the assistant scream _no, take it off!_

Just as Harry had been about to tear his hair out and leave, they had found a robe. Both agreed that the dark green robes outlined in silver would complement his eyes, which Draco had once said was one of the best things about Harry. Although, if asked, Draco would deny he ever said such a thing. 

When Harry arrives at the Ministry, he scans the crowd to see if Draco has arrived, as they had agreed to come separately. Not seeing a hint of white blond hair, Harry walks around, stopping a few times with people who want to shake his hand. He finds Hermione and Ron sitting down near a fountain that releases butterbeer from the tip of a wand.

“Hello, Ron, Hermione,” Harry says absentmindedly. A dinner plate appears in front of him heaped with delicious food, but he’s too nervous to eat and just picks at it with his fork.

“Harry, I’m surprised you’re here given that you hate these events,” Hermione says, before adding “and you even have a new set of robes! Who are you trying to impress?” 

Harry chokes on the little food he does manage to eat. Thankfully, Ron has the sense to use his wand to Vanish the food and Hermione hands him a glass of water. He slowly turns to look at her, using a napkin to wipe his mouth and hide his red face.

“Are you all right? Do you want me to see if I can get Malfoy to come over and do some scans?” Hermione’s eyes are wide in concern, but Harry is still stuck on hearing Draco’s name.

“What?” he says, turning to look at where she’s pointing. There’s an entire group of people that are standing at the entrance and Harry recognises healers from St Mungo’s. Harry wants nothing more than to go over there and greet Draco, who’s dressed in pale blue robes, but Hermione’s voice interrupts that thought.

“Malfoy’s just arrived and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. He’s practically your personal Healer whenever you go to St Mungo’s.” 

“No, that’s not necessary,” he says, sighing. He can’t bring more attention to the both of them, at least not until the end of the night. “Really,” he adds when Hermione stares at him with narrowed eyes. He desperately needs to change the conversation.

“How is Rose? Is she with Molly?” 

Ron laughs. “Yes, she was all excited about sleeping over at the Burrow to play with her cousins, but as soon as she saw Hermione putting on her dress, she wanted to come with us. We had to promise her sweets if she agreed to stay with my mum.” 

“You can’t bribe children with sweets, Ron. Having one child running around with endless energy is enough and I seriously doubt you’ll be able to handle two,” Hermione says.

It takes a minute for Harry to process the information, but he looks at both Ron and Hermione. 

“Is it true?” Harry asks Ron, and one only has to look at his proud face to find the truth.

“Congratulations,” he says loudly, causing several people from the next table to look over.

“Sorry,” Harry says, but he lowers his voice. “Who else knows?”

“Just our parents. We are going to invite everyone over in a few weeks to make the official announcement. We’d love it if you came, Harry, and the invitation is also open to your date.”

Harry hopes his voice doesn’t tremble, even as his heart rate speeds up. “Why do you think I’m seeing someone?” 

Hermione arches her eyebrow. “Harry, even you can’t keep a secret for long. You wear your heart on your sleeve. You’re much happier than I’ve seen in a long time and even Ron’s noticed.” 

“It’s true, mate. I know I was wrong for telling you off about Ginny, but you were always losing yourself into your work or staying inside all the time at Grimmauld Place.” Ron smiles. “Now you don’t seem to be stressed out as much.”

Harry is stunned. Ron admitting that perhaps breaking up with Ginny is a good thing was something he’d never thought to hear. It gives him hope that perhaps things will turn out better than expected.

“So who’s the lucky bloke? Is he here?” Hermione lifts her head to search amongst people at the tables. She has a gleam in her eyes that Harry remembers seeing at Hogwarts whenever she took on a challenge. He’s surprised that she hasn’t brought out a quill and parchment to take notes. Thankfully, a loud voice draws everyone’s attention to the front of the room where the speeches are about to begin.

“I’m not saying anything. Besides, you’ll never guess,” Harry whispers to her as the lights dim.

“I will find out Harry,” she promises.

&&&

For the rest of the evening, Harry sees Hermione go around speaking to every person that crosses her path. Most are work colleagues that get a courtesy minute before going onto the next person. Only once does Harry have to look away when she finds Draco and has a very animated conversation in which Hermione nods at Draco’s responses, using her hands to ask questions.

“What’s Hermione doing with Malfoy?” Ron asks, taking a seat next to Harry. 

“I think she’s trying to get support for the trial she currently has at the Wizengamot.”

“But he’s just a healer,” Ron says. “He won’t actually vote.”

Harry shrugs and places a mint in his mouth. “He’s still influential amongst purebloods and might be able to get them to think about both sides of the argument without prejudice.”

“Oh, look, she’s coming back. Do you think she wants to go home?” Ron sounds tired, and possibly bored, and any other night, Harry would have agreed to leave. But he has more important things on his mind.

Harry shakes his head. “I don’t know. But I doubt anything can make her leave this early unless it’s about Rose.”

“Thanks, Ron,” Hermione says when she arrives, taking the glass of water from Ron’s hands and gulping it down. “Harry, why are you still sitting down?” She waves her arm at the crowd. “Do you know how many people I’ve heard that want a dance with you?”

Harry can’t help it and bites the inside of his cheeks to stifle his laughter. “You know I don’t dance, Hermione. If I even attempt to dance, I’d more than likely make a fool of myself and I wouldn’t want to make the _Prophet_ headlines on Neville’s big night.” 

“Nonsense,” Hermione says, shaking her head, causing a few strands of hair to cover her eyes. There is announcement that the final song of the year is about to play and Hermione pulls Harry to his feet. “Go find your boyfriend at least. I’m sure he wants a kiss at midnight.”

“You only want me to leave because you haven’t figured out who it is yet,” Harry says. When Hermione doesn’t meet his eyes and her cheeks are flushed red, he knows it’s the truth.

“Don’t be surprised when you see who it is,” he warns her as he walks away.

Harry hears whispers and can feel everyone watching him, looking to see who had the privilege to dance with Harry Potter. He doesn’t stop until he’s right behind Draco, who’s speaking with an Unspeakable, and reaches to tap him on the shoulder. 

Draco turns around and there’s confusion written all over his face when he sees that it’s Harry. “Do you need something, Potter?”

“Would you like to dance?” Harry says softly, reaching out to grasp Draco’s hand. It’s warm and for the first time that night, Harry feels the tightness in his chest lessen. 

To everyone that is watching, it would appear that Draco is calm and collected. But Harry can tell that there’s apprehension when Draco hears the request and wants to erase that look on Draco’s face; it doesn’t belong there.

“I know what I’m doing,” Harry says, placing his hands around Draco’s neck and hip. “Tell me what’s going on, please.”

They start dancing, nothing grand, just a few steps and Harry lets Draco steer him just on the outside of the crowd, in the shadows, away from prying eyes.

“With pleasure,” Draco says slowly, putting his hand possessively on Harry’s back. Harry leans closer to be able to hear well.

“A few people have fainted,” he begins, and Harry snorts. “What, you don’t believe me? Why wouldn’t they?”

“No, tell me the truth.”

“I think that if they could get away with it, they would kill me.” Harry is startled, but then hears the satisfaction in Draco’s voice with his next words. “It seems that your adoring fans are just _devastated_ that their chances at the hero are gone.”

Harry shakes his head. “Too bad, they weren’t my type.”

“Oh, and what is your type, Potter?” Draco asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Tall, blond, gorgeous, and _very_ good in bed. Why? Do you see anyone like that?” Harry makes a show of looking around and sees that they are no longer the only ones dancing. 

Draco smirks at him but says, “Very funny. I happen do know that you are very satisfied in bed from the way you screamed last night.”

Harry blushes, but doesn’t deny it. “What about my friends?” 

“Well, Weasley looks gobsmacked and absolutely red in his face and Granger’s doing everything to calm him down. She’s surprised as well, but at least she’s able to hide it.”

“That’s good, at least they are not rushing over to hex you.” Harry says and Draco looks down at him. 

“True, but that doesn’t mean it still won’t happen.”

“They wouldn’t dare do anything if they know I’m truly happy and in love,” Harry says. A flood of emotions go through Draco’s face so fast that Harry wishes he could read Draco as well as he could Harry.

“What are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking about why we didn’t do this earlier. It was so worth looking at their reactions.”

Harry smiles. “Then save the memory for the Pensieve to take out and look at whenever you please.”

“While the idea is tempting, I don’t think that’s necessary,” Draco replies. “I’ll probably see it every time we step out in public.”

At these words, Harry feels a warmth spread through his body, knowing that Draco isn’t angry at their relationship being outed without warning.

“That’s good to know,” Harry says, placing his head on Draco’s chest for the remainder of the dance. When the bell tolls at midnight, they kiss each other, for once Harry not caring that he might be rubbish at kissing or how awkward displays of affection might feel. It feels right and it’s perfect.

When they pull apart and Draco looks absolutely lovely in the spotlight, his cheeks bright with colour, Harry takes out the ring that he had been touching all night. It’s a simple gold band with a thin strip of silver in the center of the ring that he had bought just a few weeks ago.

The best part is that for once Draco is at a loss for words. He looks at Harry and tries to step back, but Harry is there to reach out quickly to grab his hand. Gasps can be heard when Harry gets down on one knee.

“Draco, we’ve had a wonderful year together. All I know is that we have gone from being enemies in school, to friends and then lovers and I feel that you are the only person who knows me better than I know myself and loves me just the same. Marry me, Draco?”

Harry does not care that everyone is watching him because he only has eyes for Draco. His knees start to hurt, but he’ll wait patiently until he receives a response. When the yes comes and the ring is slipped on the finger and they kiss in the New Year, Harry knows that his future has just begun.

****

VI. Wedding Dance

“Why Harry, you’ve been practicing.’ Draco comments as their wedding dance starts out without a stumble.

Harry smiles, though there are some lines on his forehead as he tries not to lose concentration. “Hermione’s been teaching me. She says after all the fiascos I’ve had with dancing, the least I could do is have one proper dance in my life and that might as well be my wedding day.”

“I quite say, I agree with her. Merlin forbid if the hero should fall down by one dance.”

Harry laughs, a soft ringing sound, keeping careful count in his head as he looks around for the first time that night. He sees his friends and extended family and is glad that he and Draco agreed on a small and simple ceremony.

He leans closer so that he rests his head on Draco’s shoulder and turns so that he can talk directly in to his ear. 

“Have I told you how much I love you today?”

“You mentioned it quite a lot during the vows, but it doesn’t hurt to hear it again.”

Before Harry can do so, a young girl comes running up to them, shrieking, “I want to dance, too!”

Lily Malfoy-Potter holds out her arms and Harry lets go of Draco to scoop her up. She laughs, wrapping her arms around Harry’s neck and her legs around his waist.

She whispers in his ear, “Aunt Pansy told me to tell you that when we’re done dancing, to turn around so that we can have a proper family wedding photograph.”

"Another one? How many photographs is she planning on taking? I think she's frightened the photographer enough already." Upon seeing the first few wedding photographs, Pansy had deemed them utter rubbish and had directed their photographs ever since. 

Harry's comment makes Draco raise an eyebrow. "What did you expect? She adores Lily and wants to make sure everything is perfect."

“All right,” Harry says, drawing Draco closer to finish the dance.

**Author's Note:**

> You can leave a comment here or on [Livejournal](http://hd-erised.livejournal.com/32856.html). ♥


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